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Monday, 26 August 2013

2013- A Tale of Two Veterans

By Cliff Caswell

A defence correspondent who has travelled extensively with the British Army, Cliff Caswell has covered operations in Northern Ireland, Bosnia, Kosovo and Iraq. In a career spanning two decades, he has been an assistant editor of the Forces Weekly Echo newspaper and was deputy editor of Soldier magazine for several years. Cliff has also visited the Falklands-Malvinas Islands twice, accompanying British war veterans to the battlefields of Goose Green, San Carlos and Mount Tumbledown. He became involved with the Nottingham-Malvinas group after calling on Professor Bernard McGuirk and Dr Eduardo Gerding to help with securing the necessary clearances to interview former Argentinean combatants in Buenos Aires in 2007. Cliff is currently the editor of PoliceOracle.com, a website covering UK domestic law enforcement issues but continues to write extensively on the military. He lives in southern England.

Commander(Ret)
Diego García Quiroga

Steve Duffy

Enlightened
by fire

Argentinean
Falklands veteran recalls how experience of being wounded and trapped
in no mans land help lead him on a path of reconciliation

Three
decades after he was left bleeding, in shock and with his sense of
reality warped by morphine, retired Argentine naval commander Diego
Garcia Quiroga still clearly remembers the moment when he thought his
number was up.

As
a lieutenant in 1982, he had been cut down by a barrage from the
Royal Marines as the first Argentine forces on the Falkland Islands
came under contact. He was left limp against a tool shed in a
vegetable patch at Government House in Port Stanley on the soil his
country had claimed, afraid to look at his wounds.

By
the time he was taken to hospital in the capital he was already aware
that his superior officer, Lt Cdr Pedro Giacchino – who had been
hit alongside him – had bled to death as the first battle of the
Falklands War raged around them. Then a nurse confirmed the junior
officer’s worst fears. “You’re
through baby.”

Speaking
following a seminar on the Falklands at Nottingham University, Cdr
Quiroga pointed out that he had long since established the turn of
events that left him fighting for his life – and how he was saved
by the work of Argentine and British medical teams. But back on the
morning of April 2, his life was a mixture of chaos, pain and
confusion. He faced every soldier’s worst nightmare – being
wounded and exposed in the no-mans land of a fierce battle.

Now
involved in reconciliation work for veterans of the conflict and met
many former adversaries he has written a book – Stories
of My Time without a Skin– in which
he reflects on his experiences through a series of fictional
portraits of men in the wake of a battle. And he certainly has a
great deal of experience to impart.

In
particular, the heightened sense of mortality was very real for him
as nurse’s words rang around his head – and he recalled pondering
over whether he might already be dead. From what he could piece
together of what had happened, the prognosis was far from good. His
memories were scrambled, but he remembered the lights of Stanley and
the time being around 0530 Hours. He recalled all hell breaking loose
and being swiftly cut down in an ambush.

Earlier
events were, however, easier to put into context. As an operations
officer in the Agrupacion de Buzos
Tacticos, a professional and respected
navy special forces unit, he had been among the first to be ordered
to land on the Falklands as part of Operation Rosario – the
Argentine action to take the islands.

After
arriving by inflatable boats at midnight on April 1, the men were
ordered to head for Government House and attempt to snatch Governor
Rex Hunt in a move to take control of the territory. But the team
were compromised as they moved on their target location and found
themselves on the receiving end of a volley of rounds from the
handful of defending Royal Marines.

“Even
30 years later I still remember seeing bullets from a machine gun
impacting on a door, then turning around to see Giacchino spinning,”
Cdr Quiroga – who retired from the Argentine Navy in 1999 and now
lives in Geneva – told Sixth Sense.

“And
that is when I was hit – it was like being kicked by a mule. I was
lying against a tool shed I could feel a huge pain in my back. I have
to admit that I was actually afraid to look at the wounds I had
taken. I knew I had been badly hurt.”

Although
he did not know what had happened at the time, Cdr Quiroga had
actually fallen victim to three different snipers – one of the
bullets passed through his right elbow while another pierced his
lower torso. A third was stopped by a Swiss army knife fastened to
his belt over the left side of his groin.

The
28-year-old lieutenant and Lt Cdr Giacchino – who had taken a fatal
round to the chest – were left in a horrifying situation. Both were
now caught in a crossfire between the Royal Marines on one side and
the Argentine special forces on the other and could see the tracer
zipping over them.

Although
the South American troops tried to dispatch a medic to administer
first aid to their fallen soldiers he was also shot and injured –
and three men lay wounded and exposed to the contact as Argentine
troops waited for reinforcements.

There
was further alarm among both the casualties and the British defenders
when Cdr Quiroga’s superior, who was by now fighting to stay
conscious from the mortal wound he had received, revealed that he was
clutching a primed grenade in his hand.

“I
remember speaking to him for a while and he told me this,” he
revealed. “I could also hear voices shouting in English, and they
were telling him to throw the grenade away. All the while I remember
being in pain, in my arm and my back.”

Cdr
Quiroga recalled that the two sides traded rounds for more than 90
minutes, with his own consciousness blurring as the morning wore on.
In a surreal twist, the three men also found themselves trampled and
harassed by geese plodding around the garden. As he felt himself
weakening, the junior officer remembered the sun rising to reveal a
beautiful, deep blue Falklands morning.

He
was then dimly aware of somebody – a soldier – probing around his
chest. In addition he remembered fleetingly seeing RADM Carlos
Busser, the commander of the Argentine landing forces, and recalled
hearing the rotor blades of a helicopter.

“The
images were coming and going – but I do recall the face of this
huge guy over me. He was a Royal Marine, not one of ours, and I later
found out he was injecting me with morphine. He used my blood as ink
to write the letter M on me as a precaution to make sure that I did
not get a second dose.”

After
receiving initial treatment in Stanley, Cdr Quiroga was flown to a
hospital ship where the crew battled along narrow corridors to bring
his stretcher on board. He was again forced to further question his
chances of survival.

“In
all of this, I remember a few things – there was a medical officer
who said something like: ‘We can do nothing here’, although I
later found he was talking about Giacchino. And at one point at some
stage there been the nurses who remarked that I had turned blue. But
it had not dawned on me that my face was still camouflaged.”

Finally
returned to Argentina, and with his sense of reality returning, Lt
Quiroga was later relieved to be joined by his parents, when he was
finally able to hear the news that none of his vital organs had been
damaged in the battle.

It
was the beginning of months of recovery, which would eventually
culminate in the continuation of his naval career and tours of duty
that would include service on Antarctic Support Ships and the Tall
Ships School in Buenos Aires.

It
is his time on the Falklands, however, that still holds a place as a
defining period of his life and he admits that his recent
reconciliation with his old opponents has given him a fresh insight
into how war defines the later lives of combatants.

“In
Stories from My Time Without a Skin, I look at a fictional group of
people who fought in 1982 and reveal what happened to them later on,”
Cdr Quiroga said. “None of them individually speak with my voice,
but taken together they do.”

While
he admitted that his own reflections on war are also played out in
his book, he said that it is the faithfulness to his comrades, and
their own loyalty to him that shines through when he remembers his
own part in the battle for the Falklands.

“I
have enjoyed the privilege of fighting alongside brave men and
surviving almost unscathed,” Cdr Quiroga said in his personal
account about the battle for Government House. “I gained the
satisfaction of proving my faithfulness to my comrades, professional
and country – and I cannot imagine a better deal.”

Facing
The Bitter Last Stand

Former
Germany-based veteran recalls the final night of fighting on the
Falklands – and squaring up to the Argentine elite who had their
backs to the wall

BEING
in combat for the first time on an enemy-occupied island 8,000 miles
from home would be intimidating for any soldier – but when your job
is to be a decoy and draw fire from an entrenched opposition, you are
into the stuff of nightmares.

But
Steve Duffy, who in 1982 was a Guardsman in the Recce Platoon of the
2nd
Battalion Scots Guards, had never been more awake. And as the tracer
fire lit up the pitch black of the hostile Falklands landscape, the
lethal reality of his situation hit home.

Under
the cover of darkness on June 13, he and a group of 28 colleagues
were given the task of mounting a diversionary action against the
Argentine forces dug in around Tumbledown – a craggy, mountainous
area that was the gateway to the capital Port Stanley. The action
would culminate with him seeing comrades wounded and killed before he
was seriously injured himself.

But
the 21-year-old soldier, who served in Germany during his Army
career, and his colleagues had a crucial job. As they traded rounds
with a well-prepared enemy, the Left and Right flank companies of the
Battalion moved under cover of darkness to strike a hammer blow
against the enemy, forcing them into retreat. It was ultimately the
decisive action of the war, which led directly to the Argentine
surrender hours later.

“We
had been told that we would be fighting the Argentine marines, who
were very capable, and that was the responsibility we were given,”
Mr Duffy recalled. “I just remember wanting to finish the job –
by this time the cold had become a huge issue and I knew that when we
got to Stanley it would all be over.

“At
the time I never had any doubt that we would win the war – with the
passing of 30 years, however, it is clear to me that might well not
have been the case.”

By
all accounts, Mr Duffy and his comrades in the Scots Guards faced a
demanding task. The battalion had been correctly told that they were
facing the best of the Argentine military – assembled against them
among the rocks of the mountain and dug into the peat were the troops
of the 5th
Marine Infantry Battalion.

Under
the command of the charismatic Cdr – later RADM – Carlos Hugo
Robacio, the soldiers had a fearsome reputation and had been
assembling their defences for several weeks. While the Argentine
military relied heavily on conscripted men, this battalion fielded a
strong contingent of professional troops and was well-equipped with
kit including the latest-generation night sights.

Despite
being pounded with well over 15,000 artillery shells and rounds from
Royal Navy ships before the Tumbledown assault was launched, the
marines were well prepared for a fight – and moved to attack the
Scots Guards as soon as they arrived in the area.

“We
were flown by helicopter to Goat Ridge, near Tumbledown, and quickly
came under mortar fire,” recalled Mr Duffy. “It went on to last
for the whole day. But we were soon heading for our objective – to
make us much noise as possible to convince the Argentineans that ours
was a battalion attack – and then withdraw.”

The
diversionary attack was, however, immediately greeted with the full
force of the Argentineans. Two of the young soldier’s comrades were
killed rapidly and others wounded as the enemy rained down fire from
their positions.

Despite
the lethal barrage, however, the men pressed on aggressively to keep
up the façade. “We took high
casualties, but three decades on I still think we helped to save our
battalion – we made an awful lot of noise during the battle.

“We
were fighting at night and it was really difficult – but we kept up
the attack and moved through the Argentine position – it was a case
of being very aggressive. We are very well organised in what we were
doing and that paid off.”

As
the diversionary attack reached its conclusion, a fierce battle for
main objective had begun. At its height, the men of the Left and
Right Flank companies were just metres from the Argentine defenders,
and the hand-to-hand fighting ensued. But although the spoof assault
had served its purpose well, the Recce Platoon troops found the
weakened enemy remained highly lethal.

“I
was injured at the very end of the engagement,” said Mr Duffy. “Our
withdrawal was underway but a wounded Argentinean soldier gave us a
parting present with a grenade. I actually heard it roll in and I was
injured badly in the explosion¨

“The
Argentine soldier was shot quickly afterwards, but I remember lying
their and coughing up blood, knowing this was bad news – I thought
I was dying¨.

“I
remember a sergeant, Gary Nicholson, shouting at me to stand up and I
will always be grateful to him because that is what I did – I stood
up. He pretty much carried out of there – but we ended up in a
minefield where we were mortared.”

Mr
Duffy had sustained injuries including a collapsed rights lung and
shrapnel to his chest. But under contact, the two men had to fight
every instinct and remain standing, despite the incoming bombs, if
they were to avoid the threat of the mines. Both walked of trouble
and headed for the regimental aid post – from Mr Duffy was moved to
a Falkland islander’s home for treatment.

“It
was strange but I remember it vividly – there was a field ambulance
team and I was stabilised on the dining room table,” he said. “It
was incredible that, having been through the intensity of battle, I
felt completely safe when I was with the medics.”

As
Mr Duffy was under the knife, the battle was concluding. His
battalion provided the hammer blow that led to the Argentine
surrender. The Scots Guards, ultimately, provided the resolution and
firepower that was to ultimately end the Falklands conflict.

The
young guardsman went to make a full recovery, and conclude an 11-year
period of service in 1988. After leaving the Army he joined the
Police Service and after a highly successful career in uniform and
plain clothes roles, he is now approaching retirement as a detective
inspector in Thames Valley.

But
his involvement with the regiment continues. As well as making many
life-long friends forged through the shared experience of one of the
most brutal and pivotal battles of the Falklands War, one of his sons
is now in the 1st
Battalion Scots Guards and has seen service against the Taliban in
Afghanistan.

“There
is always a strong bond between those of us who fought on those
islands,” said Mr Duffy. “Within 18 months of leaving the Army, I
was lucky enough to find my second career in the police – and there
are many others who took the same course¨.

“I
learned a lot that continues to serve me well today, particularly
about making important decisions with little critical information and
remaining strong in the face of difficulties – and I took all that
knowledge with me into later life.”